The Day I Realized The “Other Woman” Was A Dude

The day I realized the “other woman” was a dude is the same day I found out that the name “Kim” is also a boy’s name.

Let me tell you how I got there.

When I met my ex, there was this immediate connection. We became best friends and from the get-go I felt very comfortable with him. For me this was unusual because it was the same feeling I would have with my girlfriends, and I never had experienced this feeling with a guy before.

At first it wasn’t the normal dating experience. He did not take me out on dates; we were just hanging out a lot.

And then the relationship actually started. We went from hanging out to actual dates. Reminiscing, I can’t believe what a true gentleman he was. He would always drive about an hour to pick me up from my house. He would never allow me to come to him because he said that a man should always pick up his girl on date night. Some might find this old-fashioned, but for me, this was hardcore Noah-Allie from The Notebook, and I loved it. He treated me so well and truly made me feel like a princess. He dressed me up like a princess, too. He would buy me the most beautiful designer dresses and even bought me the latest lipstick from the MAC collections when I even wasn’t aware that there was a new collection available. He could give me all the inside info about that collection and what he called their “gorgeous” new colors.

Sometimes when we would be goofin’ around he would ask me to do his makeup because he wanted to see how it would feel to have all that stuff on his face. For others this might have been some kind of a red flag, but for me it wasn’t. We were that geeky couple that did weird shit like that ’cause it made us laugh. I always thought he did that for me to make me laugh, but now I am thinking that perhaps it was for his own pleasure as well—especially when he would put on one of my dresses, too, and pretend he was one of the Spice Girls. Every time I laughed so hard that I thought I had actually peed my pants. I could not believe that I was in a relationship with a guy that would go the extra mile to make his girlfriend laugh so hard. But now I wonder if that was his inner drag queen dying to get out.

As the relationship continued and got more serious, we started talking about sex. At that point we never had sex even though we were going out for a couple of weeks. I did not feel that I was ready and he never pressured me. Being in our early twenties at that point I thought it was so romantic that he did not pressure me, because all I ever heard from my girlfriends is how they would just give in to their boyfriend’s sex wishes even though they wanted to wait a while longer because they were afraid he would leave them. I never had this fear. He was so sweet and respectful about this and again I thought I had hit the jackpot.

Even though we were not having sex we were discussing it and we shared our secret fantasies. I am really open-minded but the thing that caught me a bit off-guard is that he would want me to put my finger up his ass and spank his ass. Now, I don’t want to sound like a prude—but a finger up his ass? Why? But after discussing this with my girlfriends I came to know that there are other boys—genuinely straight boys—that enjoy this, too, so I let it go. I told him that I am open to a lot of stuff, but I don’t feel comfortable sticking my finger up his ass.

From that moment on I felt some distance. It was really weird how fast our vibe had changed. He started to behave weird and was secretive about his phone. Until that point I never had any interest in his phone, but now I became obsessed about it. What was he hiding from me?

At some point when he was in the shower I took his phone and went to his messages. And there they were: 142 messages from a girl named Kim. They were all hot and steamy, and it was obvious by the messages that they were getting really freaky in the sack; well, not only in the sack—according to these messages it happened in the car, in the movie theater, in the club…everywhere.

The last message in their conversation was from Kim, saying she could not cover up the hickey on her neck and that she had to work a late-night shift at the new Starbucks that just opened.

I could not resist checking her out. I was not mad at her, but I was curious. I wanted to see what she had that I did not. So I went to Starbucks before my ex got out of the shower—not for my skinny milk latte, but for Kim.

As I entered Starbucks I saw four pretty girls, one even prettier than the other one. I felt my stomach turn and I felt threatened by their beauty. I am an attractive girl as well, but these girls looked like they came straight from the Chanel runway. I stumbled and felt I was turning red but since I was already there, I had to know. Who was Kim? I went up to one of those girls and told her that I was looking for Kim. She asked me to sit at the corner table and she would get Kim. I was trembling and shaking and staring at the floor. I suddenly heard a voice: “Hi, I am Kim—can I help you?” When I looked up I saw this guy with dark hair and brown eyes. I stood up and could not believe it. As I stood up I saw his nametag that read “Kim” and on his neck, as described in the text, I saw a hickey that he could not cover up.

I realized that in my story the “other woman” was actually a dude. I ran out of the Starbucks and returned home. I broke up with my boyfriend not because he was gay—I love gays—but because he had cheated on me. But instead of being sad for myself I was happy for him. Now he would get what he always wanted—a finger (and probably more)—up in his ass.